


Signore, Ascolta!

by LydianNode



Series: A Life At the Opera [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Loneliness, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 04:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: The whole world listens to Freddie Mercury, except for the people who are his whole world.





	Signore, Ascolta!

The whole world listens to Freddie Mercury, except for the people who are his whole world.

He gives his new address to his friends. If they were listening, they could tell that he's lonely. _Listen to me. Listen_.

Roger is the only one who visits. He tours the mansion with a bemused smile on his pretty face, probably wondering why most of the rooms are empty, unfinished. Definitely wondering at the extravagance of a separate bedroom for each of the cats. He and Freddie had shared truly horrible digs back in the Kensington Market days, an absolute nightmare of a bedsit so small that there was hardly room to turn the pages of a book without their elbows colliding. But they were poor then, and now this house is Freddie's dream come true, a chance to be generous to his old friend. Roger should know that, if he'd only listen.

Freddie invites him to dinner. "Anything you fancy." Roger hears the invitation but he's not listening, not recalling the times when butter was an unimaginable luxury and tea bags were reused until they dissolved. At least Roger pulls him in for an embrace before he goes. They're not so far apart now that they never touch, but as Freddie hugs him back he wishes with all his heart that Roger would just listen.

So instead of an indoor picnic with Roger, Freddie eats alone in the kitchen, absentmindedly petting whichever of the cats want his affection at the moment. He doesn't pick up after himself - he has People to do that for him now - and he saunters into the music room with no clear goals in mind.

He doesn't want to make music when he's alone like this, so he uses the stereo to fill up the empty spaces. "Turandot" is on top of the stack of LPs, a perfect gem of a tragedy. Freddie loves Montserrat Caballé not just for her voice but for her story, how people didn't want to listen to her because of how she looked. Freddie is more than happy to listen to her, wishes she could somehow hear him in return.  
  
Why will no one listen?

Mary. Of course, his Mary will listen to him - why didn't he think of that sooner? He picks up the ridiculous faux-baroque telephone and dials her number. That's why he installed her in a little flat in the building next door, so he can keep her close. So he can see her window as he composes. So he can imagine her listening to the music pouring out of him.

She hears him now but doesn't listen, doesn't hear the aching isolation in his silly request to turn her lamp on and off in imitation of his. But he both hears and listens to her and realizes that her bewildered compliance is out of a sense of duty rather than fondness. Because he's listened, he wants to make it right. He invites her over for a drink, a chance to spoil her the way he'd wanted to spoil Roger.

But she demurs with a whisper-thin excuse, just as Roger had. "It's late, Freddie." Enclosed in ice. His name is on her lips, but hers is in his soul.

How could he sell millions of records yet fail to be understood by the two people who know him best? Freddie doesn't like self-pity any more than he likes irony so he waves that thought away. Perhaps it's time to be more direct. _Here I am, being magnanimous and clever and fun! Love me! Listen to me!_

He dials Paul's number and asks him - no, commands him, because Paul is paid to listen - to plan a party. Something decadent. He tries to sound excited even though all he really wanted was a picnic with Roger, a glass of champagne with Mary.

_Here I am. Love me. Listen to me._

_Listen._

**Author's Note:**

> I've started a Tumblr! Find me here: lydiannode.tumblr.com .


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